The Scarlet Victreebel
by Oswald Bastable
Summary: An Historic Fanfiction. Inspired by "the Scarlet Pimpernel". On the eve of the Kalos Revolution, a young peasant boy finds a unique Pokémon and resolves to become a Pokémon trainer. But when the Revolution breaks out, he'll have to decide where his loyalties lie. A tale of friendship tested in war, of romance found in the depths of despair, and of a hero's awakening.


**The Scarlet Victreebel: An Historic Fanfiction**

_A.N.: Hey guys. Thanks for reading this. The premise behind this fanfic is pretty simple: it's basically the story of the French Revolution as it might have happened in the Pokémon world equivalent of France, Kalos. The bare bones of the tale are, of course, lifted from the Scarlet Pimpernel story, but don't expect this to be a fanfic of that: the names, themes, ideas and plot all come from various sources, and some of them, I daresay, are even my own. The main thing is that this is an exploration of that period of history in the Pokémon setting._

_Now to another important issue: the characters (or, at least the main characters) in this are OC's. This is firstly because, since the story is supposed to take place in the canon universe several hundred years before any of the games, it wouldn't make sense for any of the real Pokémon characters to be alive yet, and, secondly, because it frankly just gives one a lot more liberty with the story. Despite this, I hope you guys will read the fanfic anyway, and that you'll enjoy the setting. If you do, don't forget to R&R and all that._

_Peace out; and without further ado, here's the story._

**Chapter the First**

It was a dreary evening when the three-masted Kanto junk pulled into port at Coumarine City. The air was heavy, and it was the kind of night that was neither bright enough to be pleasant nor dark enough to be ominous. It was a dangerous thing to trade in Kalos in these troubled times, but the ship was from far away enough that they it wasn't suspicious, and they had special permission from the local authorities. Once the junk had moored, the sailors, glad to be able to finally set foot on dry land, dispersed in the surrounding area, some to peddle their exotic trifles to the locals, others to quarrel and drink, others still simply to find a bed to sleep on that didn't sway with the sea. The Coumarine Docks were a bad place; their shady alleyways were replete with nothing but thieves and smugglers and shady dames of ill repute, and their drab houses were crumbling in disrepair. The only agents of law and order in the area, two soldiers of the Coumarine division of the Black Guard, where imposing indeed, but seemed rather a part of the general lawlessness than an antagonizing force.

The crowd of sailors had soon thinned down, however, and in no time the place was silent again except for the low sound of the sea splashing against the docks. Only a single man remained before the ship, a mysterious young traveller who had gotten off with the sailors, but who had stayed behind a bit, looking over the scene of the decrepit town.

"Oh…" he muttered under his voice "Coumarine has changed..."

And, indeed, Coumarine had changed, as had the whole of Kalos. To see it in its current state, no-one would have believed that Coumarine City had once been a thriving seaside resort.

The young traveller produced from his pocket a small, crumpled up piece of parchment. Onto it was scribbled an address; but the young traveller read it with an air like he already knew what it said:

_"The Shiny Magikarp"_

Despite his previous seriousness, the young traveller couldn't help but crack a smile at this. _"The Shiny Magikarp"_... he didn't need an address for _that_. He could find the _Shiny Magikarp_ blindfolded.

The young traveller was a tall youth, dressed in an olive-green kimono with a drab brown cloak over his shoulders, typical Kanto attire for the time period, but definitely out of place in Kalos. His oriental look was further accentuated by the long, single-edged slashing sword, or "katana", which he carried under his cloak but over his kimono, next to six pokéballs; crafted from apricorns, of course, as those were the only kind of pokéballs available in those days: they were rarer, but generally more resilient than the ones around now.

Yet despite his clothes, the young traveller was strangely unstrange in that setting: his long, red hair, although tied in a bushy pony tail in the fashion of the roaming samurai, or "ronin" of Kanto and Johto, was of a distinctly occidental hue, and all his features pointed to a native of Kalos.

He spoke the local language without a hint of an accent, too.

_The Shiny Magikarp_… oh yes, he could have found that place, blindfolded, even if he'd been absent for a thousand years instead of ten.

The young traveller looked around, and then set forth with a quick pace to the appointed spot, lest the two Black Guards on duty find his tarrying suspicious. They were big and threatening men, well-armed, and he knew that their Pokémon were as powerful as they were ruthless in maintaining the "order" of the Revolution.

Everything had changed after the Revolution: not only Coumarine, but the whole of Kalos, and, indeed, the whole of the Pokémon world.


End file.
